Downfall - Of an angel's degradation
by Fynnian
Summary: Many demons used to be angels once. To be banished from Heaven and lose their wings they must be found guilty of commiting a grave sin. Young Sitri used to be an angel, too. But how come he has fallen?
1. Chapter 1: The arrival of a new angel

**Downfall**

- Of an angel's degradation

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><p>Basic Manga: Makai Ouji – Devils and Realist<p>

Original story and Characters by: Madoka Takadono, Utako Yukihiro

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><p>Greetings to all who read this story. It's my first story on and my first on Makai Ouji. I hope you'll like it.<p>

In the Manga until now it's not said why Sitri became a fallen angel, but there are hints which triggered me to write my own guess down in this fanfiction.

For example Michael mentioned that Sitri wasn't where he was now out of his free will,

Baalberith said that it was him who made Sitri fall and Ashtaroth explained to William that Sitri was beeing raised by demons.

I got interested and googled some information about the demon Sitri and the angel he used to be. And yes, I had been a little surprised to find that there really is a mythological background behind it. I originally thought it was all invented by the Mangaka. But then again, I'm not that literate with religion.

Okay, guess that's been enough talk for the start. Please enjoy and tell me what you think of the fanfic.

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><p>Chapter one: <strong>The Arrival of a new Angel<strong>

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><p>She simply sat there – her eyes closed, her mouth curved into the meek bow of a content smile. Her left hand was resting on her swollen belly, the right one toying with a young daisy blooming nearby.<p>

She new the time was drawing near.

Around her, some low-rank angels were assembled, aniticipating the upcoming event.

The birth of an angel surely was a rare occassion, happening but once in a century. In general there were two types of angels: the original angels created by god and the former humans who were granted a transformation due to services they performed in their livetime. But sometimes it happened – as it did now – that the bonding oft two angels brought forth the birth of a new one – an angel of secound generation.

She never would have thought herself a future mother. As most angels do she always found the mere thought of sexual contact repulsive, would never have considered it an option. But then it happened.

Nine months ago she met beautiful Gabriel on a feast. She managed to catch his eye, they talked, he was nice, wine was flooding … The archangel stirred something within her she did not know before, a kind of needing. They both gave in to it this one time. Just this one time.

No more than one night together. And yet a child came of it.

Of course there had been gossip, others talking behind her back that she'd dirtied herself, that she did the incredible sin. But when her body started to swell, they all fell silent, watching her in awe.

Heaven sometimes followed different ethics simultanously, she thought. On one hand, the mating of two bodies counted a despicable sin, on the other hand pregnancy was a marvelled wonder.

But then, it didn't matter. She was happy, as content with herself as anyone could be.

Her smile deepened, her hand softly caressing her abdomen.

Maybe it was because she sinned with Gabriel, the angel who encouraged mothers-to-be and helped them shoulder their bundle?

Maybe he willingly gave it to her, that happiness.

But no, how could he, when directly after he himself went to sleep? Certainly he wouldn't give up on parentage when offered the chance?

Did he want to grant it to her solemnly?

A rapid pain interrupted her line of thoughts. The time had come.

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><p>A good five hours later she lay in her bed, exhausted and worn, but, if possible, even happier than before.<p>

She hadn't expected it to be that painful, but the slightest motion of the warm feathery bundle she pressed to her heart made her forget about it.

Only when she recovered next day, she dared to loosen her grip and lay down the small thing in front of her for inspection.

Few angels have ever seen anything alike a baby-angel. It was astonishingly tiny.

Careful she unwinded the entanglement of soft down-feathers and fuzz-covered wings the baby had cocooned itself in to see all of it. It was a little boy, his eyes shut, single strands of silvery white hair on its head.

Delighted she kissed the child's forehad, taking the newborn into her arms once again, cradling it out of instinct.

Into the silence she whispered the name the new baby-angel should receive.

„Sitri."


	2. Chapter 2: Useless

I'm sorry that this one is a short chapter again. I'm not really content with it as well. But it contains some background information needed for later chapters.

The next update will be a long chapter, containing much more plot, I promise!

What do you think you're doing?", Baalberith hissed between gritted teeth, tightening his already ironlike grip around his son's arm.

„May, may, calm down, old man! I know what I'm doing."

With his usual selfconfidence-dripping grin young Ara brushed his father's hand away.

Baalbherit could burst with rage. This useless child of his, Ara, was standing right before him, a picture of unjustified self-esteem the likes of a made hero. Only that Ara never yet did anything to earn him any respect. No, wait; Baalberith massaged his temples; Ara never yet did anything. Full stop. Well, unless prancing like an over-perfumed peacock through parties and soirees counted.

Twisting a light brown strand of hair around his left index finger, Ara continued to smile to reassure his father. Considering his ever so snake-like countenance he looked more as if he was going to strike, but how should he himself know? His glance met only threehundred times a day with the mirror's surface. At least his father thought so.

Letting his hands fall down by his sides the demonic king sighed heavily, asking himself quietly for the billionth time why he was blessed with the most narcistic offspring possible.

True, Baalberith himself wasn't what you'd call modest. Or nice. Or a person you'd trust in your right state of mind.

Being manipulative, possessive and most important a very powerful demon, he managed to gain the position as king of the west and warden of tartarus. Thus holding one of hell's highest ranks he still planned on going further up in status. Due to his personality, he never could stand it when there was someone standing above him, someone allowed to order him around. He didn't even like the fact that there were three other kings, standing on the same level as him.

Still, his strength could only take him this far. What he was in need for now was the ability to make people like him, trust him, persuade them to follow him. All characteristics he unfortunately did not have. Neither did Ara, whom he hoped to be his galleon's-figure in this.

Bitter resentment clouding his voice, the king winked for the young man to leave.

„Go. Go back in and try your best to befriend some high-rank demons."

When Ara immediately turned on his heel and headed for the delicately encarved doors, he once again stopped him by adding: „Remember: High rank demons. Not the bootlicking scum hoping to raise their own rank buzzing araound you."

Ara gave no sign that he had heard those words. Without reacting he shoved open the doors and disappeared. But his countenance slightly tensed, revealing his anger.


End file.
